


Life Is To Be Enjoyed, Not Endured

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was always John Watson's dream to own a pub. He runs the moderately succesful place called The Green Lion, and he has hopes that this pub will be around long after he is gone. But with the new hires and the conflict that brings and the looming threat that a certain rival businessman provides, will his dream come true, or will it all fall to pieces?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I really love **sherlockmas** over at Livejournal (as evidenced by the thirty plus fics I wrote last round), and for the summer round I suggested about thirty prompts. I ended up claiming one of mine, "AU where one of the characters runs a pub and everyone else is employed there (would especially love to see Lestrade as a bouncer/Molly as a bartender/Anderson as an inspector trying to shut the place down)," and this is one of the most AU stories I've ever written. I hope all of you enjoy it. Posting it a bit early as I may not have access to a computer that unzips files next week and I want to make sure it's ready for posting at the community on my posting week.

It had always been his dream to have his own pub. He’d tried his best to make it in other careers; the years spent as a pre-med student had been dreary and boring, so he’d switched in the middle of his fourth year at university to business classes. Meant it took longer to finish the courses, and his parents had not been pleased that their son was no longer going to be a doctor, but that was what he wanted, and in the end everyone was supportive. He was thankful for that, he really was. It had been a long time coming, this pub, but he had it now. The Green Lion was busy most days and nights, and that was what mattered. He had a steady clientele, and the visitors to London who heard about it from locals always helped shore up the receipts at the end of the day. All in all, John Watson decided as he looked around, he was doing fairly well for himself. His mother and father, God rest their souls…they would have been proud.

He’d surrounded himself with people who were friends second and business associates first. It worked better that way. He had a good manager, some good bartenders and a reliable bouncer to keep things nice and calm. He was lucky in that regard. So many pubs in the area were shutting their doors after three, four years of business. He was at ten, and he considered that a good milestone to hit. He hoped he was around another ten, twenty, fifty years from now, until he decided to sell out and retire. And then he hoped it would be around long after his passing.

“John, we’re running out of the craft beer from Liverpool,” Molly Hooper said, pulling him from his thoughts. She was his favorite of the bartenders. Not the best; she was still learning, and a bit shy for the job. But when she warmed up to a customer she’d blossom, and the regulars loved her. She, too, had gone the medical route before she ended up there, actually completing medical school and her residency before something happened and she chucked it all away. He’d wondered what had happened, but she never hinted and he never pushed. 

“Tell Sherlock to put in another order for it. Twice as much this time,” John said, going over to her.

“All right,” she said with a nod, blushing slightly. Every time he told her to talk to Sherlock little flecks of red dotted her cheeks. If she fancied the man she’d never admit it. Not that Sherlock Holmes would ever notice; he was always too busy with the books and the business to pay attention to the charms of any person, man or woman. If John thought he loved the business Sherlock probably loved it even more. Or perhaps not loved; his brother was John’s silent partner, after all, and Sherlock was always trying to prove himself to Mycroft. It made for a well-run bar, but it left much to be desired for Sherlock’s personal life. John supposed Sherlock preferred it that way; Mycroft had mentioned a woman in Sherlock’s past and that it ended badly, and he’d turned to numbers and figures for solace. Once again, John didn’t pry. It wasn’t his place.

“You know what? I’ll do it,” John said with a smile.

“No, it’s fine. He’ll ask for details on how many bottles and stuff are left. Since I’m tending the bar I’d know better.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and made her way back to the office, nearly bumping into Sally on her way out. Molly and Sally were like night and day; while Molly was warm and open Sally was admittedly not. But Sally was an efficient bartender as well, better with the mixed drinks they’d incorporated three years ago than Molly was. Sally was a nice woman, but prickly. There were a set of customers who liked her, though, and that’s why John kept her on. One day he’d talk to her about being more friendly, but today was not that day.

“Greg! I’ve got a drunk in the loo who’s vomited all over himself,” Sally said with a scowl as she went behind the bar. If there was one person in the establishment Sally got on well with, it was Greg Lestrade, the resident security man. Greg had been around from the beginning, and he was honestly the best man for the job. He’d trained Dimmock well, but there was something about Greg that kept the customers in line without much trouble. He was also well liked, and well respected. That was a big asset.

“I’ll go fish him out,” Greg said with a shake of his head. “Sorry you had to deal with him.”

“Well, he’s not a regular. They all know not to get pissed and then hog the loo,” she said. “I think he’s a Yank, if the mumbling I heard was any indication.”

“Great, another one,” Greg replied with a shake of his head. “Just what we needed.” He got off the stool by the door, giving Sally a grin as he went by her. “I’ll take him off your hands, Sal.”

“Thanks,” she replied, giving him one of her all too rare smiles. It looked much nicer on her face than the scowls she usually wore, and John found he wished she’d flash it at more than just her own group of regulars.

John looked around the establishment. Everything seemed in order, other than the lone person who drank too much more than was good for them. He went to the bar and sat down, looking at Sally. “Can I get a soft drink?”

“Cola, right?” Sally asked. John nodded. “We’re getting low on that, too. The sudden appearance of all these Americans who want whiskey and Coke means we’ve been serving a lot of it.” John opened his mouth but Sally held up her hand. “You know I don’t deal with Sherlock unless I absolutely have to. That’s why I’m telling _you_.”

John sighed. That was the only sore point in the whole business, the fact that Sally and Sherlock hated each other. Due to some massive miscommunications in Sally’s first week the two of them absolutely detested each other and used John and Molly as their go-betweens. Molly didn’t mind, because Sherlock didn’t seem to openly detest her, but sometimes it wore on John’s nerves. If they weren’t so good at their jobs he might have demanded they make amends or find other places of employment, but because they excelled at what they did he kept them both and made the best of it. “Fine. I’ll tell him later.”

“We’re also running low on soda water and grenadine,” she said, getting a glass and putting ice in it.

“Cola, soda water and grenadine. Right,” he said as he watched her fill up the drink at the tap. “Anything else?”

“I could probably use more pineapple juice,” she said after a moment. “I think we have enough to get us through the week, though. Provided we don’t get a lot of orders for girly drinks.”

“I’ll go tell him to order more of all of it.” She handed him his drink and he took a sip. “Have you given any thought to our last conversation?”

She sighed. He’d asked her to work a different shift on the weekends, to train the new bartender in the evenings when there was more of a crowd. She’d fought hard to have her weekend evenings off, but she was a better trainer than Molly was. He needed her there at least for a few weeks. “For a month. But that’s all.”

John gave her a grin. “You’re a lifesaver, Sally.”

“Remember that next time we talk about my wages,” she said, crossing her arms. “Who am I training, anyway?”

“Anthea Williams,” he said. “You probably won’t need to train Irene.”

“You got a fourth bartender named Irene? What’s her full name?”

“Irene Adler.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “You _do_ know who that is, right? She won’t need training. She’s supposed to be one of the best bartenders in the city! No offense, John, but why is she agreeing to work here?”

He scratched his face slightly. “Not sure. She said she was tired of the glitzy clubs. But she isn’t the only new hire.”

Sally nodded slowly. “All right. I’ll train this Anthea woman. Hopefully she’ll pick it up faster than Molly did.”

“She’s had some training, but not done any bartending for at least five years.”

“So it’s more a matter of retraining instead of starting from scratch?” John nodded. “I can work with that.”

“Good.”

“When do they start?”

“Irene starts any minute now, Anthea this Saturday.”

“Irene who?” Molly asked as she came out towards the bar, Sherlock right behind her.

“Irene Adler.”

The noise Sherlock made got everyone’s attention. “No. That…no,” he got out after a moment.

“What’s wrong?” John asked as Sally smirked at the sight.

“Why on earth would you hire Irene Adler to tend bar here? In fact, why would she even consider it?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“She said she was tired of the club scene,” John said. “Why?”

“I refuse to work with her,” Sherlock said adamantly. “I do not get on well with her.”

“You know her?” Molly asked.

“Yes, unfortunately,” Sherlock said. “She is…we were…”

“We shagged once,” a woman said from nearby. “Well, more than once. Somebody wanted more out of the arrangement than the other did.” Everyone turned to look at her, and she grinned at Sherlock. “Pleasure to see you again, Sherlock.”

“Irene,” he said darkly. Then he turned to John. “Terminate her employment here.”

“But she’s supposed to be the best at what she does,” John said.

“I can simply work around you,” Irene said sweetly towards Sherlock. “It’s not as though you’re a _partner_. It’s not as though you have any actual _power_ to speak of.”

Sherlock glared at her. “Terminate her employment or I leave,” he said when he turned back to John.

“Is there any way at all the two of you could work together?” John asked, his eyes darting between one of them to the other. Sherlock said “No” as Irene said “Yes,” and with that, John sighed. He turned to Sherlock. “I’ll make sure the two of you never have to be here at the same time,” he said after a moment.

Sherlock turned his glare back to Irene, then huffed. “Fine. But since I make the schedules she’ll have to deal with whatever shifts I give her.”

“No retaliation,” Irene said, a glint in her eye. “I want to work evenings, and I want my full shift, or else I’ll make sure this place fades out like the rest of the bars on the block.”

“Holding me hostage already, hmm?” Sherlock said tensely. “Fine. You shall have your evening shifts, and your full shift.”

“And I want weekends,” Irene said smugly.

“Very well,” he said through gritted teeth. Then he turned to Molly. “Do a full count of our inventory, then come to the office with the numbers. I do not want to spend any more time out here than absolutely necessary.”

“All right,” Molly said with a nod. Sherlock turned and left the bar area, and Molly turned to Irene. “Hello. I’m Molly Hooper.” She offered her hand to Irene.

Irene took her hand and shook it. “You obviously know who I am,” she said with a smile that was slightly less smug than the one she’d directed towards Sherlock. Then she extended her hand towards Sally. “And you are?”

“Sally Donovan,” she replied, shaking Irene’s hand.

“It should be interesting working with the two of you,” she replied. “Any place I can hang my coat?”

“I’ll show you,” Molly said. “There’s a break area by the office.”

“Thank you,” Irene said with a nod. Molly left the bar area and Irene followed.

Sally and John watched them go. “Well, _this_ ought to be interesting,” Sally murmured.

“I just hope it isn’t the end of things,” John said worriedly. Maybe he’d been a bit too blinded by Irene’s name and the draw she would be to see her faults. He just hoped he wasn’t making too big of a mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

They all managed to make it through to Saturday, for which John was grateful. Irene was everything he had hoped she would be. She knew what she was doing, was charismatic and flirty, and brought in a ton of new customers. Sally stepped up her game, and so did Molly, though Sherlock had begun to use Molly to run messages to Irene and Sally, and John could see it was wearing her down a bit. Still, with Anthea’s arrival pending, he hoped things would get easier.

“When is she supposed to start?” Sally asked. There was a bit of a lull, and Irene had gone to take her break, having a quick cigarette in the back, leaving Sally as the only one at the bar. With Anthea arriving any moment this wasn’t a problem.

“Any minute now.” He looked around. There was a smattering of new customers, but right now it was more the regulars. He knew in an hour the regulars would go home and the place would be filled with more new faces and less familiar ones. He just hoped the three bartenders could handle it.

The roar of a motorcycle was heard outside, and John turned. It was very strange to hear motorcycles in this area, and he was surprised when woman walked in five minutes later in riding leathers, with a bag on her back and a helmet tucked under her arm. It wasn’t until she got closer that he recognized her and gave her a smile. “Anthea,” he said.

She gave him a slight smile back. “Hello, John.” She came over and set her helmet on the bar. “I hope it’s all right I parked my motorcycle out front.”

“No problem,” John said. “This is Sally Donovan.”

“Hello,” Anthea said, offering her hand to Sally.

“Hello,” Sally said, shaking it.

“Is Molly here?” Anthea asked.

John shook his head. “She works days now, for the most part. You’ll be working with Irene though. She’s on her break at the moment.”

“Huh,” Anthea said. “I rather liked Molly. Would have been nice to work with her.” She looked around. “Any place I can put this and change into regular clothes?”

“In the back, by the office,” John said, getting off his stool. “I’ll show you.”

“Thank you.” John made his way to the break room with Anthea following. “I had lockers put in a few years back. Everyone has one. Most of the time we don’t lock them, but if you want you can,” he said.

“I probably will. I quite like my things to be safe.”

“Well, no one really goes back here. We’re lucky in that regard.” They walked in silence until he got to a door marked “Employees Only” “The back entrance is in this room, if you want to go outside and get some air during your shift. We do have food here. Stamford is our cook, and we don’t get many complaints. If you want to bring your own food you can store it here,” he said, pointing to a refrigerator as he opened the door. “The telly’s in here as well.”

“Looks a lot like the last bar I worked at,” she said with an approving nod. “Hopefully I get along with all the staff. I already met Molly and Greg, so…”

John nodded. “We’ve had a bit of a rough spot lately. Apparently Sherlock and Irene refuse to work together.”

“Who’s Sherlock? Another bartender?” she asked, going to the lockers and finding an empty one.

“The bar manager. He’s holed up in the office most of the time. Bit of a standoffish sort, but he’s good at his job. They had a thing in the past.”

Anthea winced. “Any other office gossip I should know?”

“Sherlock and Sally aren’t overly fond of each other,” John said.

“That doesn’t bode well for me.” She turned to John. “So basically avoid Sherlock?”

“It’s more like he’ll avoid you, unless he’s using you to pass messages on to others.”

“I’m nobody’s courier, though I suppose I could make an exception occasionally.” She turned around again and put her helmet in the locker. “Where can I change?”

“Room to the right,” he said. “That’s the staff lavatory, so they don’t have to share with customers.”

“Got it,” she said. “I’ll be back out in a few moments.”

“Thanks.”

John left and Anthea grabbed her bag and headed towards the room to change. Within five minutes she was out of her riding leathers and into denim pants and a soft T-shirt. She came back out just as Irene was coming into the room. “Hello,” Anthea said. “You must be Irene.”

“And you must be Anthea,” Irene said with a slight smile. She offered her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Anthea said, shaking Irene’s offered hand.

“Are those leather pants?” Irene asked as she pulled her hand away, looking down to the folded clothing in Anthea’s hands.

Anthea nodded. “My riding leathers.”

“Interesting,” Irene said. “You’ll probably make more in tips if you keep them on.”

“Probably, but I like for my skin to breathe,” Anthea said with a slight smile.

“Just some friendly advice,” Irene said. “I’ll see you out there, then.”

Anthea finished putting her things away and looked around. She’d been in worse places, she decided. She’d try and keep her nose clean and go about her job. She just hoped she was able. She made her way back out to the bar, where Irene and Sally were already at work. “I’m supposed to show you the ropes,” Sally said as Anthea got behind the bar.

“That would be nice. Been a while since I’ve done this.” She looked around. “Where do you want to start?”

Sally started showing her around, and Anthea picked it up quickly. By the time Sally left for the night Anthea thought she had a handle on things. She liked Sally well enough, but Irene rubbed her the wrong way. She could already tell she was going to have trouble with her. Anthea finished out her shift, and then looked around for John. She found him in the office, looking over some papers. “Could I talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure,” he said, grinning at her.

“Is there any chance I could work the day shifts? I’ll pull weekend evenings if you want, only because I know Sally doesn’t want them, but…I’d prefer to work days.”

“I can leave a note for Sherlock, for when he does the schedule,” John said with a frown. “Any particular reason?”

“No,” she lied. “I don’t mind the evening, but there are things I like to do in the evening and I’d prefer to keep them free.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” John said with a nod. “Have a good enough first day?”

“Yeah. I think I’ll enjoy working here.” She gave him a slight smile. “Irene said she’d shut the bar down, so I’m going to head home now. What time do you want me here tomorrow?”

“Opening, if you don’t mind not getting a lot of sleep.”

“I don’t sleep much as it is.” She looked around. “I’ll be here tomorrow, then. Night.”

“Good night,” he said, watching her leave. He frowned slightly. He could tell when he was being lied to, and he knew Anthea was lying. He’d seen her get on well with Sally, so the problem had to be Irene. He was starting to wonder if hiring Irene had been a mistake. He hoped it didn’t hurt him too much in the long run.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning Molly got to the pub at the same time Sherlock did. “Oh. I thought I was going to be the only one here early,” she said with a smile.

“I have paperwork to do,” he said gruffly, unlocking the door and letting them in.

“Here. This is for you,” she said, handing him one of the two paper cups she was holding. “You like your coffee black, right?”

He blinked for a moment, and then took the cup. “Yes. Thank you, Molly.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, her smile widening slightly. “John rang me up last night letting me know Anthea wanted to work days.”

“Yes, he called me as well. That will take some shifting, but I can make it work.” The two of them stepped inside. “You could always use the help.”

“Because I’m not as good as they are,” she said quietly. He turned to look at her, surprised, and she shrugged slightly. “I’m a better doctor than I am a bartender. I know that.”

“If you’re a better doctor why aren’t you practicing medicine?” he asked, ignoring what he needed to do for a moment.

“I lost a patient my first week after my residency finished,” she said. “It…broke me. I couldn’t go through it again, so I left. I wasn’t suited to much else, but I’d helped at my dad’s pub growing up. He didn’t want me to. He wanted me to better myself, be the first doctor in the family. He stopped talking to me when I quit medicine.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t regret it, though. I like it here, most of the time. John is good to me, and so are you.”

“I’m not good to anyone. Just look at Sally and I,” he said.

“You are,” she replied, lowering her coffee. “You’re a good manager. I don’t think this place would work half as well without you.” She grinned at him, a wide grin. “One day you’ll see it, and so will everyone else.” Then she glanced at her watch. “I need to get ready. First wave of customers should be coming through faster than I’d like.”

“Molly,” he said as she made her way to the bar.

“Yes?” she asked, stopping near him.

“You are not a _bad_ bartender,” he said. “I think you do just fine. If I didn’t I would have recommended you be let go.”

She chuckled slightly at him. “Good to know at least one person thinks so. Thanks, Sherlock.” She came over closer to him and after a moment’s hesitation kissed his cheek. She pulled away quickly and turned so he couldn’t see the blush on her cheeks, and she missed watching him raise a few fingers to where her lips had been to touch the spot for a moment. After a moment he made his way into the office as Molly began to set things up for the day.

A half hour later Anthea showed up. She greeted Molly with a smile, and then made her way to go change. When she came back out Molly seemed to have things ready for the day. “Anything I can do?” Anthea asked, pulling her hair back into a ponytail as she made her way to the bar.

“Well, you can check to see if we have enough cola. We were supposed to get more this week for the mixed drinks but I don’t think the shipment’s arrived yet,” Molly said with a smile.

“All right,” Anthea said with a nod. She went to go check the levels. “I think we have enough to get us through the day. Two days, tops.”

“I’ll let Sherlock know, then,” Molly said with a nod. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Molly looked at her for a moment. “Forgive me if I’m too forward, but why do you want to work during the day? The tips are abysmal and there’s stretches with nothing to do.”

Anthea thought for a moment. “I’m not really fond of Irene,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Oh, good. I thought I was the only one.” Anthea looked at her, surprise on her face. “She’s…flashy. I can see why she did so well at those big name clubs. But it just makes me uncomfortable, and reminds me of just how much I have to learn on this job.”

“I can help,” Anthea said. “Sally is all right, I suppose, but…I like you more. With a little guidance you could do very well.”

“Really?” Molly asked, wide smile on her face. “I’d like that. Thank you very much.”

“Think nothing of it,” Anthea said with a grin of her own. “Is it just us?”

Molly shook her head. “Sherlock is in the office.”

“I suppose I should go introduce myself, get it over with,” Anthea said. Molly gave her one last smile and Anthea walked away towards the office. She knocked on the door. “Hello?” she asked.

“Come in,” Sherlock said from the other side of the door. Anthea opened it and walked inside. “You must be the new bartender,” he said, not looking at her.

“Anthea,” she said, studying him. He looked incredibly familiar, he realized, and then suddenly it hit her. “Is your last name Holmes?”

“Yes,” he said with a slight nod, his gaze looking down at the papers in front of him.

“And you have a brother named Mycroft?”

He nodded again. “Yes. He’s the silent partner of this establishment.”

“I know him,” she said quietly.

Sherlock looked up. “How?”

“I worked for him, years ago, when I was putting myself through university. He’s an interesting man.”

“I’ve met all his assistants. I don’t recall an Anthea,” he said with a frown.

“I went by my birth name then, Emily,” she said. “Emily Williams.”

A surprised look crossed Sherlock’s face. “That was _you_? He said you were the best assistant he ever had.”

“Really?” she said, her own surprise showing on her face. “I’m surprised. He acted like he couldn’t stand me most of the time. That’s why I left.”

“He treats all his assistants that way. You lasted the longest. He’s compared each assistant he’s had since to you.”

“If he’d treated me better I would have stayed,” she said with a shrug. “I am no one’s slave.”

“I can see that,” he said with a slight grin, leaning back. “Working for him pays far more than bartending.”

“Yes. I have missed the money over the years, but I’ve done okay for myself.”

“I get the feeling you and I will get along just fine,” he said. “Which makes for a change of pace around here.”

“I hope so,” she said with a slight grin. “Well, I’ll be leaving now. There’s work to do, and I feel bad having Molly do all of it.”

Sherlock nodded. “If either of you need anything, let me know.”

“We’re low on cola,” Anthea said.

“I’ll try and get some delivered shortly.” Anthea nodded and made her way out. Sherlock looked at the door for a moment, then pulled out his phone. He did not talk to his brother often; while he was grateful Mycroft had gotten him this job, he knew their relationship was not the warmest of relationships. But Mycroft had every right to know his favorite assistant had resurfaced after ten years. He pressed dial as soon as he got to his brother’s contact.

Mycroft picked up after three rings. “I am a bit pressed for time, dear brother,” he said urbanely.

“Your favorite assistant has reemerged,” Sherlock said.

“Emily?” Mycroft asked quietly.

“Yes. She’s the newest bartender that John hired. She goes by Anthea now.”

“That is her middle name,” Mycroft replied. “Why is she tending bar?”

“I haven’t a clue. I just thought you should know.”

“Thank you, Sherlock.” There was a pause. “Make sure she is comfortable. That she gets on well with everyone.”

“I’ll try my best, but you know I don’t get along with anyone here other than John, Greg and Molly.”

“Make quite sure you get along with _her_ ,” Mycroft insisted.

“Very well.”

“Perhaps I shall drop by later. Renew my acquaintance.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened. In the entire time Mycroft had been a partner he didn’t come by for a visit. Mycroft preferred to let him and John run things unsupervised. “Really.”

“Yes, really. Is she there now?”

“Yes. She’ll be here until Sally and you know who arrive.”

“You have to say her name eventually.”

“No, actually, I do not,” he said with a scowl. “I can continue to avoid her. I prefer working during the day anyway.”

“Very well.” His brother spoke to someone quietly on the other side of the phone. “I will be there at one,” he said to Sherlock after a moment. “Make sure she is there.”

“Fine,” Sherlock said with a sigh. “I will see you at one, then.” Mycroft hung up first, and then Sherlock pocketed his phone before pinching the bridge of his nose. This was going to be a long day…

\--

At one precisely, Mycroft stepped into the pub. He had not been there in many years, and was pleased to see it looked well maintained and that his money was being well spent. He nodded towards the young man working security. “Could you tell me if Anthea is still here?”

“The new bartender?” Dimmock said.

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Yeah. She might be on break, but she didn’t go out the front, and I’ve been here since morning.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft murmured. He entered the establishment and nodded to Molly, who nodded back. She didn’t know who he was, which was fine. She was a passable bartender but apparently she brought a warmth to the place, so he hoped she stayed. He made his way to the office to see his brother, and he entered without knocking.

“You could bloody well knock first,” Sherlock said without looking up.

“I’m one of the owners. I can come and go wherever I please whenever I like,” he said, setting the tip of his umbrella on the floor and leaning on the handle.

Sherlock looked up. “She hasn’t gone home early,” he said, setting down his pen.

“But she is not at the bar.”

“Everyone gets a break when they need one,” Sherlock replied, and Mycroft could tell he was trying not to roll his eyes. “She’s probably in the back room.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft said with a slight inclination of his head. He lifted his umbrella up and made his way back out of the office. He had just made it to the employee area when the door opened and he found himself staring face to face with Emily. “Emily,” he said quietly.

She stared at him for a moment before regaining her composure. “It’s Anthea now,” she replied.

“Very well,” Mycroft said with a slight nod. He had to admit, ten years had changed her. She was not the same young woman he had known before. She had matured into a confident looking woman, but he gathered she was still the same headstrong woman she had always been. “It is good to see you again.”

“Are you spying on me?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow up slightly.

“I merely thought we could renew our acquaintance,” he said.

“If I remember correctly, you were a tyrant and I was in need of a better life,” she said, though she moved out of the doorway so he could come into the room.

“I will admit I treated you harshly,” he admitted.

“That’s an understatement.” She looked at him. “I was your personal slave, not your personal assistant.”

“And I do apologize for that.”

She blinked slightly. “You apologize?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.” She looked at him. “I should probably get back to work now.”

“You can take a few more moments before returning to work,” he replied.

“I forgot you’re the silent partner and all,” she said, crossing her arms. “What convinced you to put your money into this place?”

“You did. You told me it would be in my best interest if I looked for…unique investment opportunities.”

“And you actually listened?”

He nodded. “So far this has been one of my better investments.”

“Well, good. I want to be working here for a while.” She kept his eye, far longer than he had expected her to. “Don’t think you can poach me back to being your assistant. I’m not that wide-eyed girl anymore. I like the life I have now.”

“I can see that,” he said, his gaze traveling up and down. He was pleased to see she flushed slightly at that. “Since I would like to have you return as my assistant, I will simply wait you out. Eventually you’ll see it is the best decision for you.”

“Not bloody likely,” she said. “Just don’t ruin this job for me, that’s all I ask.”

“I will not take this job away from you, if that is what you are suggesting.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that,” she said quietly. “I just mean don’t make things hard. I need this job.”

“I know. I did some research on you since I found out you were here.”

“I should have known,” she said with a sigh. “So you know the whole story?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I know about the failed business, and the errant ex.”

“Lovely,” she murmured.

“I will not make things harder on you. I give you my word.” He nodded towards the door. “I may stop by again, however.”

“Do you still like brandy?” she asked. He nodded. “If you arrive while I’m here I’ll fix your drink. I made enough of them for you when I worked for you.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I believe our conversation is done for now.”

“Then I should get back to work.” She moved past him, pausing at the door to give him one last look. “If you want a drink now, we have a good bottle of brandy on hand.”

“Perhaps some other time.”

“All right.” He watched her leave, and then headed out the door after her a few moments later. Yes, he definitely needed to stop by more often…


	4. Chapter 4

The next week went more smoothly, then the one after that as well, then the third. It seemed best that Irene and Sally worked the evenings most of the time while Sherlock, Anthea and Molly worked days. John had to admit there was more peace in the establishment, though he did find himself doing more of the evening manager duties since Sherlock would only come in was when Irene wasn’t present. But Sherlock did most of the work during the day, so there wasn’t much John needed to do at night, other than take final counts on inventory, get the money ready for deposit and leave instructions on things that needed to be done.

What worried John more was Mycroft had begun to make his presence known. He had stopped by earlier in the day a little less than two weeks after Anthea started and saw Mycroft at the bar, sipping a brandy. They had chatted for a moment, but only a moment once it became apparent that his attention was more focused on Anthea than it was the conversation. There was a connection there between them, and it wasn’t until after Mycroft had left that he found out from Sherlock exactly what it was. He hoped the fact that Anthea had been Mycroft’s assistant years ago didn’t cause any problems.

So far there had not been any major problems since Irene had come on staff, but John was rather holding his breath and waiting at this point. He knew something would happen soon. He could feel it in the air. And he was right. The first day of Anthea’s fourth week rolled around and he was paid a visit by one of the people he loathed most in the world. He happened to be at the bar when Jim Moriarty strolled in, looking like he owned the place. He always came in with that attitude, and John knew he would very much like to own the property to convert it into yet another glitzy club or high-end restaurant. John had held out for years, and he planned on doing it long into the future.

“John,” Jim said, his grin resembling that of a shark. Whenever John compared him to something from the animal kingdom it was always either a predator or a sneaky animal, and it was never a nice comparison. His well cut and expensive suit stood out among the more laid back clothing of the staff and customers. Then he turned to Molly, and his grin took on a much less feral quality, though there was something to it that showed a more lustful side of him. “Hello, Molly.”

“Hello,” she said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before going back to wiping down the bar. Molly felt uncomfortable around Jim, even though he was nicer to her than anyone else on staff. John tried his best to limit their contact if he could.

“Molly, why don’t you go see if you can restock some of the supplies?” John said, giving her a smile. She looked relieved as she nodded and left the bar area. John didn’t tend bar often, but he knew what he was doing; bartending was how he’d gotten himself through university, after all. As soon as Molly had left John went behind the bar, planting his hands on it and looking Jim square in the eye. “What do you want, James?” He chose that name specifically because he knew Jim hated being called that.

Jim’s face took on a hard set for a moment before the dark look vanished and his grin came back. “I was wondering if you’d given any more thought to my proposal,” he said, sitting down on a stool.

“I have, and the answer’s still no. I don’t want to sell the place.”

“I could make you rich. You wouldn’t have to work anymore,” Jim said. “You could put all this toil behind you. Or if you’d rather, you could start a new place somewhere else. A better one than this…dive.”

“This is not a dive bar,” John said, his annoyance rising. “This is a well established and well liked pub.”

John could see Jim wanted to make a snide remark. He had an incredibly expressive face. But after a moment the urge left. “Heard you got one of the best bartenders in London here,” he said after a moment, picking up a paper napkin and folding it in to a shape. “How is that working out?”

“Fine,” John said, slightly confused.

“I hope it’s enough to save this place,” he said quietly.

“Is that a threat?” John asked, crossing his arms.

“No. If I made a threat you would know.” Jim concentrated on the napkin. “I heard she has a history with your manager.”

“She does,” John said tersely. “We work around it.”

“Eventually it’s going to blow up in your face.” Jim looked up. “You know it just as well as I do.”

“We’ll make it work,” he replied insistently. “Do you have anything else you want?”

Jim shook his head and pushed the napkin towards the center of the bar. John thought it resembled a fish. Knowing his luck it was meant to be a shark. “Not now. But just so you know, I won’t give up.” He got off the school. “Tell Molly I said good-bye. I’ll talk to you again at a later date.” And with that, he headed out of the bar, giving a last wave when he got to the door.

John sighed and went to work, serving second and third rounds to the customers at the bar. After twenty minutes Molly came back out with Sherlock behind her. “Is he gone?” she asked.

John nodded. He did not plan on passing along Jim’s message. “He is.”

“One day that man is going to cause you serious trouble,” Sherlock said darkly. “Trouble you will not be able to extricate yourself from.”

“I’m just happy he didn’t see you here,” John said to him. “We don’t need another exchange like last time.”

“There were no punches thrown,” Sherlock pointed out.

“Yes, but I think he likes goading you. I think there’s something about you that intrigues him, and not in a good way. Like he’s looking at baiting you as some prelude to…I don’t know. A great game or something.”

Sherlock shrugged. “He may be intelligent and all, but I’m smarter.”

“But he’s cunning,” Molly said quietly, and both men looked at her. “He scares me sometimes. He reminds me of a sly fox sometimes, and a man-eating shark other times.”

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who feels that way,” John said, giving her a grin, hoping she would relax. She gave him a faint grin back, but still appeared tense. “Molly, if you’d like you can take a break. I can handle this crowd.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a grateful smile.

“Perhaps I could join you,” Sherlock said after a moment.

“Really?”she asked, slightly shocked. “Um…all right. I was going to get a meat pasty from Stamford. Do you want one?”

“Yes, thank you,” Sherlock said with a nod. She gave him a warmer grin than she’d given to John and went back towards the kitchen area. Sherlock watched her go and was quiet for a few moments. “I do not like the way he looks at her,” he said quietly when he spoke again.

“I don’t either, frankly,” John said. “But you never seemed to care before.”

“Just because I don’t voice my opinions doesn’t mean I don’t have them. If you are right and he is playing some sort of game, she could easily be one of the pawns. I do not care to see her hurt. Or anyone else who works here.” He turned to look at John. “I would suggest the next time he’s on the premises you have Greg or Dimmock escort him out before he speaks to her.”

“I just might do that,” John said with a nod. 

“That would be best.” 

“Do you really think he’ll be a threat?” John asked.

“He wants this property. He’s slowly been buying out all the businesses on the block. I wouldn’t be surprised if he resorts to underhanded means to get this one as well.” He sighed. “Just be prepared. And don’t be afraid to let my brother know what is going on. He can help step in before things get to a point of no return. 

“I don’t want it to get that far, but I suppose it’s good to know that,” John said with a sigh.

They were quiet for a moment, and when they turned back he saw Molly coming back with two plates in hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe it’s time I take my break,” Sherlock said, pushing away from the bar.

“At least you’ll have good company,” John said, grinning warmly.

“Yes, there is that.” Sherlock turned and that point and left, meeting Molly near the hallway to the employee area and taking one of the plates from her. Something was going on there, John thought to himself. For some reason, Sherlock was looking at Molly as more than just an employee. He was looking at her as a friend, possibly. Or maybe something more. Whatever it was, he was very protective of her now, and John felt sorry for anyone who tried to hurt her. He had seen once how scary a determined Sherlock could be.

He turned his attention back to the customers on hand, and twenty minutes later Molly rejoined him, a pleased smile on her face. “You seem better,” he remarked, not leaving his spot behind the bar.

“I am. Sherlock and I have had some interesting conversations lately,” she said. “We had another one today.”

“You like working with him?” John asked, wiping down a glass.

“I do. He’s a good person. And he’s a good manager. I don’t think this place could run without him.” She looked around as she went behind the bar. “Anything you need me to do right now?”

John shook his head. “Not that I know of. It’s slow right now. If you wanted to head home you could probably go. Sally will be here in an hour, and then Irene shortly after that.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

John nodded. Then an idea hit him. “Tell Sherlock he can go home, too. Maybe the two of you could continue the conversation you were having.”

“Oh, but he’s probably too busy,” she said. “There’s so much work to do.”

“Tell him I’ll take care of it.”

“If you’re sure,” she replied.

He gave her a wide smile. “I am. The both of you deserve a bit of a break.”

“All right.” He watched her head into the office, and ten minutes later the two of them headed towards the employee area. A few moments after that they came back out, dressed for the cold weather. Sherlock gave John a quizzical look as they came up to him but John ignored it. “Let me get you your tips,” he said to Molly.

“Thank you,” she said. John got the money from the tip jar as well as the envelope she’d been depositing her money in. She caught sight of the envelope before he pulled the money out. “It looks fuller than before.”

“I put the tips I got while you were busy in there as well,” John said, putting the money from the tip jar into the envelope.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said.

“It’s all right. I don’t need the tips, and you do.” He handed her the envelope. “You two go have fun, all right?”

“I suppose,” Sherlock said. “She expressed interest in going to the cinema and asked if I would accompany her.”

“They’re classic movies, not modern ones,” she said. “A double feature of ‘Gaslight’ and ‘Strangers On A Train.’ I love both of them very much.”

“That’s the only reason I’m agreeing,” Sherlock said, though he didn’t have a sour look on his face as he said it. “Though if I have to see a Hitchcock film I prefer ‘North By Northwest.’ Much better acting.”

“I didn’t know you liked Hitchcock,” John said, surprised.

“There is a lot you don’t know about me,” Sherlock replied with a shrug.

“Apparently,” John said with a grin. “Well, go have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sherlock.”

“We will,” Molly said with a grin. “Bye!”

“Good-bye,” Sherlock said with a nod, and the two of them left. John watched them leave, the grin still on his face. If nothing else, at least something good came out of the day. If he could play matchmaker and make the two of them happy then that was a good thing.


	5. Chapter 5

“I heard you had an interesting day yesterday,” Irene said with a smirk towards Molly the day after she and Sherlock had gone to the movies. Sally wasn’t working that evening, since it was Sunday and that was her normal day off. Anthea was in the office talking to Sherlock and Irene had just walked in, making a beeline for Molly. Molly did not like the look in her eyes.

“I did,” Molly said, looking down. “I got off work early and caught a film.”

“Yes, I know. You caught a film with a good _friend_ ,” she said, her smirk widening slightly.

“He’s not really a good friend, not yet,” Molly said, blushing slightly. Truth be told, she and Sherlock had had a very nice evening. After the movies they had gotten a bite to eat and talked for two hours afterwards, and then gone their separate ways home. She wasn’t sure if she should consider it a date, not really. It wasn’t as though there had been a kiss at the end of the night, or even a hug, and they’d each paid for their own things. She had simply looked at the evening as an opportunity to get to know a friend better.

“Well, I think he fancies you,” Irene said. Molly turned red slightly. “Look at that, blushing and everything. If he did fancy you, it isn’t a bad thing. Just make sure he knows from the outset what you want.”

“Could we not have this conversation?” Molly asked quietly, her cheeks turning even redder. She didn’t even want to look at Irene right now.

The smirk left Irene’s face, though Molly didn’t see it. “You know, I don’t hate him. I knew he managed this place when I applied for the post. If I hated him I never would have come here. He may hate _me_ , but it doesn’t go both ways.”

“That’s good,” Molly said with a nod, glad the conversation had drifted away from her.

“He’s a decent man, I suppose. If I wanted what he wanted at the time, I could have been happy. Possibly. But I don’t want to settle down. And now, I’m not sure if he wants to anymore, either.”

“Stop gossiping about me,” Sherlock snapped from the side of the bar, Anthea behind him. Molly’s head snapped up and she dropped the glass she’d been holding. It shattered when it made contact with the floor. “I’m sorry I startled you,” he said towards Molly.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m sorry I broke the glass. I’ll clean it up.” She went to go get the broom and dustpan from the supply closet.

“Treat her nicely, Irene,” Sherlock said coldly.

“Who, me? I’m nothing if not nice.” She came over to Sherlock and patted his cheek. He glared at her, and she chuckled. “She should loosen up a bit. You too. Then you both would be _so_ much more fun.”

“Stop it now,” Sherlock said.

“My, aren’t _you_ protective of her,” Irene said. “Do you fancy her, Sherlock? Have you finally moved on from me?” She leaned in more. “I’ve heard you’ve given up women. All because of me. That makes me quite proud, you know.”

Sherlock’s jaw clenched slightly. “Irene—”

She kissed his cheek quickly and chuckled. “Oh, come _on_ , Sherlock. Pull that stick from your arse and loosen up. Live a little. For that matter, go have a nice shag.” She made her way towards the employee break area. “It will do you a world of good,” she called over her shoulder.

“Wow,” Anthea said, her eyes wide. “Are you all right, Sherlock? You look like you want to slug someone in the face right now.”

“I do. Unfortunately, I have vowed never to hit a woman,” he said, unclenching his fists. “I will not break that vow today.”

“I’m so sorry,” Molly said as she came back. “I’m really, _really_ sorry about the glass. About everything.”

“It’s all right,” Sherlock said with a sigh. “Irene is being her normal self. I’m sorry she cornered you.”

“And this is why I don’t want to work with her,” Anthea said. “I just don’t _like_ her very much.”

“Thank you for taking this shift,” Sherlock said, turning to face Anthea. “I know Sally has the weekend evenings off and resented having to work them the last few weeks.”

“Hey, I can deal with her better than Mols here,” Anthea said with a slight shrug, going over to Molly. “I think she’s just a bully at heart.”

“A spiteful bitch might be a better description,” Sherlock murmured.

“Here, let me clean that up. You go ahead and head home,” Anthea said, taking the broom and dustpan from Molly.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive,” Anthea said with a nod. “Go home, take a long soak and have a nice glass of something. Forget about today.”

“All right. I’ll see you on Tuesday,” Molly said with a slight smile as she grabbed her tips from the envelope. She made her way to the employee area as Irene came out. “I’ll see you Tuesday as well,” she said to Sherlock, who had headed back towards the office.

“Likewise,” he said with a nod. He glared at Irene one last time, who smirked in response, then went into the office.

“I _love_ goading him,” Irene said as she came back to where Anthea was nearly finished sweeping up the broken glass.

“You would,” Anthea murmured.

“What was that?” Irene asked, her voice slightly chilly.

Anthea straightened up. “I said you would,” she said a little more loudly. “You strike me as a vindictive and cruel woman.”

“Vindictive, maybe, but not cruel,” she said. “I will leave her alone if it pleases all of you. _He_ , however, is fair game.”

Anthea resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You’re playing with fire there. You push the wrong button with him and it might cost you.”

“How? He has no power here.”

“Yes, but his brother does,” she said. She didn’t add that his brother was starting to ask her opinion on things, and that he might start being less silent as a partner. Irene didn’t need to know she held a trump card, so to speak. “And for all you know, the shift in power could always change.”

Irene pursed her lips together before letting out a sigh. “That is true, I suppose. Fine. Take away all my fun.” She watched as Sherlock emerged from the office and went to the break room. “I’ll just avoid him,” she added with a slight shrug.

“That might be best,” Anthea said, taking the glass in the dustbin to the trash. “Now, let’s go ahead and get to work, all right? I just want to get through the evening and get home.”

“Very well,” Irene said.

\--

Sherlock could hear her very clearly when he walked into the break area to get his coat. Molly was crying. Not loudly, not gross sobbing, but it was evident that she was not in a good mood. He wanted to throttle Irene for that. Ever since the day Molly told him about why she had left the medical profession, he had chosen to spend a little more time with her. He had actually enjoyed the two movies yesterday, as well as the conversation afterwards, more than he wanted to admit. For Irene to poke fun at it irritated him. He cleared his throat and she jerked her head up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry to intrude,” he said softly.

“No. I should have waited until I got home to have a good cry,” she said with a sigh. “I should go.”

“Would you like to have dinner tonight?” he asked as she stood up. “You don’t have to think of it as a date. I’m not asking as one.” Damn, he thought to himself. He was rambling and making a hash of things. He didn’t even know why he was asking, other than he wanted to, in some way, make up for the incident earlier.

“I would,” she said quietly. “And it doesn’t have to be a date. It can be two friends sharing a meal.”

“So we’re friends?” he asked, his mouth quirking up into a slight smile. He got one in return and felt his irritation at Irene ease a bit.

“Yes, Sherlock, we’re friends,” she said. “Are you sure you want to be seen leaving with me?”

He made his way towards his locker. “I honestly do not care what that woman says or does,” he said. “I’m just sorry she hurt your feelings.” 

“What did you see in her?” Molly asked.

He had just opened the door and paused. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t really want to think about it. But she had told him about why she had chosen this career, in more detail, over the last few weeks. If she could tell him that story, he could tell her his. “When I was younger I wanted to impress a woman. I had been awkward and gangly growing up. Then when I turned sixteen I had a growth spurt and started developing more and I decided to spend more time taking care of myself. But I had always liked numbers and figures more than people. One day a few years later my few friends enticed me to go to a club. I ordered a drink from her. We flirted, or rather she flirted with me. She took me home that night and bedded me. I became infatuated. She saw me as a charming little fling.”

“I’m sorry,” Molly said. She got up from where she had been sitting and came over to him, putting a hand on his arm. “Were you…?”

He knew what she was trying to ask. He glanced at her and saw she had a dull red blush on her cheeks. “Yes, I was. She was my first. I have never forgotten that fact. Neither has she.”

“I’m sorry. Again.” She squeezed his arm slightly. “My first time was a bit rubbish as well.”

“Oh?” he asked. They had not talked about anything this intimate before.

She nodded. “I didn’t want to but my…boyfriend…convinced me otherwise. Then he dumped me the next day, saying I was bad in bed.” She shrugged slightly. “It’s gotten much better since, but thinking back to the first time, it stings.”

“Did he force himself on you?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“No, not exactly. I did agree, but that was just to get him to stop.” 

“I would like to wring his neck,” Sherlock said, surprised at how much the story angered him.

“You wouldn’t be able to. He died in a car crash seven years ago.” She gave him a wan smile. “And my friend got the best revenge on him. She told everyone he was quite underwhelming in that department, if you know what I mean. He never lived it down at the university, especially when she got other friends and his exes to join in.”

Sherlock smiled slightly. “It sounds like you had a good friend.”

“Yes, I did,” she said with a nod. “So I guess it’s all right.”

“You’ve been hurt greatly in the past, haven’t you?” Sherlock asked.

Molly nodded. “More times than I would like.”

“I won’t hurt you,” he said, looking at her.

He got a brighter smile in return. “I know.”

He was quiet for a moment. She really had been through a lot, and had come out the other side a bright and cheerful person. He had to admire that. He had been through trials and tribulations and come out bitter and cynical. “I wish I could be more like you,” he said finally.

“You can be. You just need some good friends.” She looked down and saw her hand was still on his arm. “I’d like to volunteer my services in that department.”

He grinned back at her. “All right.”

She looked at him for a moment, holding his gaze. “Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“I…would…” She started to blush. “I know you said you weren’t asking about dinner as a date. But what if it was? I mean, what if we considered it a date? I wouldn’t mind. I would actually like that. Quite a bit.”

“You would like to date me?” he asked, surprised.

She nodded. “Yes. I would. I’ve wanted to for months. And…oh God, I’m rambling. I’m sorry. I’m making a fool of mysel—”

Whatever else she was going to say was silenced when he moved in and pressed his lips against hers. He put a hand on her waist, moving it around to her back and pulling her closer. She was surprised for a moment but relaxed into the kiss, moving her arms so they were wrapped around his neck. They only pulled apart when they needed to breathe. “Molly Hooper?”

“Yes?” she asked, licking her lips slightly.

“Would you like to go out on a date with me?” he asked, running his hand up and down her back.

He could see a wide smile blossom on her face. “I would like that very much, Sherlock Holmes.” She leaned in and kissed him again, and they would have continued that until they heard a woman clear her throat. They pulled apart quickly and found themselves looking at Anthea, who looked surprised. “Oh! Sorry.”

“Congratulations are in order, I assume?” Anthea asked, the surprised look melting into a smile.

“Yes,” Sherlock said, wearing a grin of his own.

“Well, congratulations. You two could do far worse.”

“We already have,” Molly said with a smile.

“If I were you I’d walk out of here holding hands with large smiles on your faces,” Anthea said. “Let Irene stew about it for a bit.”

“That sounds like a very good idea,” Sherlock said, turning to Molly. “It’s not very often I get to amuse myself like that.”

Molly chuckled. “I don’t mind helping you rub it in her face, Sherlock.”

“Thank you,” he said. He let go of her and she moved away so he could put his coat on. “I will see you tomorrow, Anthea.”

“Have a nice night, you two,” she said, making her way towards the lavatory. She turned and saw Sherlock and Molly gather their things and grasp each other’s hand and smiled. She knew she was going to have to listen to Irene grouse about this for the rest of the night but, really, she was happy the both of them were happy. At least somebody was.


	6. Chapter 6

Things went smoothly for the next month, aside from the occasional visit from Jim Moriarty to entice John to sell his business. Business increased regardless, and they found they had new regulars to join the old crowd, though it was still slow during the day shifts. John had begun to look for a fifth bartender to help during the evenings. And on a more personal side of things, Sherlock and Molly spent more time together than apart, even while at work. Those that had to work with Sherlock appreciated this new side of him, though Irene did grumble on the few occasions she had to work with either Sherlock or Molly.

This particular day there were very few customers, mostly regulars, but Anthea had gotten used to this during the day. She was there by herself, though Sally was to arrive shortly. She was wiping down the bar when she looked up and saw a much more familiar face. “Hello, Mycroft,” she said, stopping what she was doing and going for the bottle of brandy. “Your usual?”

He nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

She got out the glass used for anyone who ordered brandy. Anthea reasoned the only reason they had the brandy and the glass was just in case Mycroft had showed up. She had gathered he didn’t really make his presence known until recently. She went to the brandy and poured him out a hefty measure. “Why are you here today?”

“I have a meeting with John,” he said, swirling the liquid in the glass before raising it to his lips and swallowing some. “Do you remember the inspector who was here yesterday?”

She nodded. “Yes. Anderson something or other. He seemed a bit of a prat.”

“He’s slapping the bar with all sorts of violations,” Mycroft said.

“What? This place is one of the cleanest pubs in London, and as far as I know everything is up to code.”

“John had assured me much the same last night when he called me. I did some research. This is all a ploy from James Moriarty.”

“The businessman? I know he’s had his eye on this place but I’ve never met him.”

“He wants to make this part of London more upscale. John is the sole holdout.” He took another sip of his brandy. “He’s bought the inspector to close the place down.”

“Sneaky bastard,” Anthea said, shaking her head. “Do you have a plan?”

“I do. I am hoping John will allow you to attend our meeting. I would like you to listen in and offer any insights you might have.”

She looked at him. “I’m not trying to manage this bar, you know. Your brother’s a very good manager.”

“Yes, but I trust your opinions. And you know how men like him think.”

“Sadly, I do,” she said with a sigh.

“It was not your fault your last pub went under. You were not a bad manager. You simply had a bad owner.”

“But I was a partner,” she said quietly, looking down. “I should have been able to save it.”

“He was taking money from the employees for gambling debts.” Anthea looked up sharply. “You did not know because he was good at hiding it. It never would have worked unless he had sold the bar to you. Then you may have been able to salvage it.” He looked at his brandy. “Is anyone else here to help you?”

“Sally should be here in a few minutes.”

“When she arrives, join us.” He finished his brandy and put down a large tip. She raised an eyebrow and she shrugged slightly. “For the brandy and the help.”

“Fine,” she said, taking the tip and putting it in her envelope. She waited on the few customers who needed her, and when Sally arrived ten later she excused herself and went to the office. She opened the door to see Mycroft sitting down and John pacing. “That bad?” she asked.

“We’ll have to resort to bribes,” Mycroft said. “I am willing to pay them.”

“I don’t want to do business that way!” John said, stopping. “It’s underhanded and dirty.”

“Why does he want this place so bad?” Anthea asked, leaning against the door once she closed it behind her. “I mean, it’s not a bad place. It would fit in nicely with whatever else he has planned.”

“He wants control,” Mycroft said. “He wants to extract money from all the businesses here, his percentage as owner.”

“Well, you don’t need to bribe people,” Anthea said with a shrug. “The inspector was leering at me the whole time yesterday. Offer me up, see if he backs off.”

“And if you decide you do not want to continue to associate with him, he may redouble his efforts,” Mycroft pointed out.

Anthea sighed. “I suppose. I don’t know how long I could stand him pawing at me. Is there anything else Moriarty wants aside from the pub?”

John looked down for a bit. “I think he’d like to shag Molly.”

“But she and Sherlock are together now,” Anthea said. “And you know Sherlock would have an intensely negative reaction if we even suggested anything of the sort. You both know that.”

“I know,” John said with a sigh. “Molly’s a good woman, nice and warm. I don’t want her involved in this.” He began pacing again. “There has to be something else we can do.”

“Mycroft, you can do research on Moriarty,” Anthea said, turning to Mycroft. “Get all the information on him you can and then use it to your advantage. While he might be a big name in this part of London your name carries far more weight, and I doubt he has the government connections you do.”

“I could involve some of my contacts,” Mycroft said with a slow nod. “See how he acquired the places he has now. Find out who his associates are, see if there is anyone shady.”

“And next time he comes in, if I’m here, introduce me,” Anthea said. “I can study him a bit more that way. It never hurts to have an up close encounter.”

John nodded. “All right. I can agree to all that.” He looked at Mycroft. “I gave you the list of supposed violations. If any of them are actually on the mark…”

“Then I shall have them fixed,” Mycroft said, standing up. Then he turned to Anthea. “Thank you for your insight, Emily.” Then he paused. “Anthea. My apologies.”

“You can call me Emily, I suppose,” she said with a shrug, moving away from the doorway as Mycroft approached. “But don’t do it in front of anyone except John and your brother.”

“As you wish,” Mycroft said, inclining his head towards her. He left the room at that point, leaving John and Anthea alone.

“He must trust you a great deal,” John said quietly.

“I didn’t think so until recently,” she said with a slight shrug. “He certainly didn’t treat me this way when I worked for him.”

“How long did you work for him?” John asked, moving to his place behind the desk.

“Nearly two years. I left to pursue my own business. I ended up becoming the manager of a pub here in London, then one of the partners. And then I got involved with a shady man and it all fell apart at once.” She sighed. “Not exactly my shining moments.”

“He wants you back in his employ,” John said with a slight smile. “I could see it a few minutes ago. He trusts you and wants you back as his assistant.” He leaned back in his seat. “It would be a shame to lose you.”

She grinned at him slightly. “No worries. I like this life a lot more than being his assistant. You won’t lose me yet.” She nodded towards the door. “Want me to go out and help Sally until my shift is over?”

He nodded. “Yes. Don’t tell her about what we talked about, all right?”

“All right.” She left the office and went back over to the bar. Sally was drawing a pint for a customer when she got there. “Need me to do anything?” she asked.

“It’s fairly dead,” Sally said with a slight shrug as she handed the pint to the customer and took the payment for it. She deposited the tip she’d gotten in her envelope. “I think I like working evenings better, even if it means I get less time with my mates.”

“I like working days because then I avoid Irene,” Anthea said. “You’re a saint to work with her.”

“Well, she brings in the customers, and she can’t handle everyone. Works out well for both of us. I do miss Molly, though. She was nice to work with.”

“Molly’s a doll,” Anthea said with a smile.

“Is she really dating Sherlock?” Sally asked.

Anthea nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile before that. I met him a few times when I worked with his brother. He was always so serious and into all things facts and numbers. I honestly didn’t even know if he liked women. Or men, for that matter. He didn’t care for most people. Molly seems to have broken his shell.”

“Good for them,” Sally said with a slight smile. “Now I just need to go out on a date myself and everyone can be happy around here.”

“I doubt Irene’s happy,” Anthea said, beginning to wipe down the counter.

“She’s got someone. He calls her three or four times a night. She always takes his calls, even if she’s with a customer,” Sally said with a shrug. “Calls him Jay.”

Anthea nodded slowly. “Lucky her.” She looked down. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I need to make a call.”

“Sure,” Sally said. “Not like there’s a queue out the door or anything.”

Anthea flashed her a grin then went back into the office. John looked up. “Yes?”

“How much do you actually know about Irene?” she asked, sitting across from him.

John laced his fingers together and placed them behind his head. “Well, she’s brilliant at what she does. She’s worked in clubs and high end bars all over London for years.”

“But what about her personal life?” Anthea asked, leaning forward.

“Not a thing. Why?”

“She’s been getting calls from a man Sally says was named Jay. But what if Jay is just the letter J? And what if the letter is short for James? Or rather, Jim?”

John’s eyes widened slightly. “You think she’s working for Jim Moriarty? Why on earth?”

“Insider information, the chance to tweak Sherlock’s nose, money…any number of reasons. But it’s an avenue worth exploring.”

John picked up his phone. “I’ll tell Mycroft to look into her more. Should we let on?”

Anthea shook her head. “It’s better to have her here and not knowing anything than to have her leave knowing we know. Just keep it between the three of us.”

“You don’t even want me to tell Sherlock?” John asked, surprised.

“No. Not yet. He doesn’t need any more reason to hate her, and if they get into another tiff there’s always the chance he’ll let something slip.”

“I can see why Mycroft values your opinion so much,” John said as he brought up a contact on his phone. “His loss is my gain, I suppose.”

“Yes, it is,” she said with a nod. She tuned John out as he spoke to Mycroft. She didn’t want to be right, but she was fairly sure she was, and that was going to make everything vastly more complicated.


	7. Chapter 7

A week later Sherlock’s phone rang once, then twice, then three times. He was sleeping, and for the first time in a very long time he was not sleeping alone. He wanted to ignore the call and stay in bed, but then his phone stopped ringing and Molly’s began ringing. Both of them were fully clothed, as their conversation the previous night had stretched into the early hours of the morning and she had started to fall asleep on his sofa. He’d made the offer to share the bed and she had agreed, and it had probably been one of the best night’s sleep he’d had in recent memory.

“One of us needs to answer that,” she said sleepily from next to him. He tightened his hold on her waist in response, hoping to keep her next to him a little longer, but she wiggled out of his grip and padded over to her purse just as her phone stopped ringing.

“Who was it?” he asked with a sigh, rolling over onto his back before turning his head to look at her.

“John,” she said as her phone gave her an alert for a voicemail. She hit the button on her phone to speed dial it and then put the phone to her ear. Sherlock watched as her eyes grew wide. “Someone broke into the pub.”

Sherlock was wide awake in an instant, reaching over towards his nightstand to get his own phone. He checked his voicemail as well, finding a terse “Call me soon” message from John. He got out of the bed and glanced over at Molly, who was looking for her shoes. He dialed John and put the phone to his ear. John picked up after two rings. “Why the bloody hell didn’t you answer your phone?” John asked.

“Because I wasn’t alone, and I had wanted to stay in bed a while longer,” Sherlock replied, sitting on the edge of his bed.

There was a pause. “ _Oh_ ,” John said after a moment.

“It’s of no matter,” Sherlock said. “How extensive is the damage?”

“Very. There isn’t a single bottle of alcohol left, all the glasses have been shattered, and everything else is grafittied or broken. The even destroyed the kitchen. The only thing left untouched is the office, and that’s because of the bolt we installed a week ago. They couldn’t get in there.”

“Damn,” Sherlock said. “Moriarty hopes to ruin your business so you’ll have to sell, doesn’t he?”

“That’s my thoughts. Your brother’s as well.” There was a pause, then murmured conversation on the other side of the line. “Anthea, Sally and Greg are here. Can the two of you come too?”

“Of course. Give Molly a chance to go home and change first, however.”

“Of course. We’ll be here trying to clean up.”

Sherlock hung up and looked at Molly for a moment, and she came over and sat next to him. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Everything will need to be replaced, it seems,” Sherlock said with a nod.

She reached over for his hand, lacing her fingers in his. “I could always talk to him.”

“Talk to who?”

“Jim Moriarty.”

Sherlock vehemently shook his head. “Out of the question. You know he only wants one thing from you. If he gets it…who knows how he’ll treat you afterwards?”

“Everyone I’m friends with relies on the pub being open, on us having work. If I can get him to back off, to leave us alone, then everyone will be all right.” She looked at him intently. “I can at least try.”

“What about us?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how far I would be willing to take things if it meant everyone keeping their jobs.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

Molly looked at their hands, then let go of his. “I think I do.” She stood up, but Sherlock grabbed her wrist. She looked down at him. “Sherlock…”

“Don’t. Please.” He stood up and let go of her, only to move in front of her. “I know we haven’t gotten the chance to…there hasn’t been a chance…please don’t throw it away.” He framed her face in his hands. “Let us find some other way to resolve the problem. At least give us a chance.”

“The staff or you and I?” she asked, shutting her eyes and putting a hand on each of his wrists, holding them there.

“Both. I like this person I am with you. Even when I was with Irene I never felt like this. I don’t want to lose you, not to him, not over this.” He saw tears slip down her cheeks and he used his thumbs to brush them away. “You really do bring out the best in me, Molly.”

“You’re just making this harder,” she said quietly.

“Please. I never beg, but I am begging you now. Please just give me a chance.”

He could feel her nod slightly. “All right. I’ll give you your chance.”

Relief flooded through him and he kissed her, something that he supposed was to be gentle but turned into something else. She moved her hands, clinging to him, and he intensified the kiss. Even though they were both needed at the pub he knew, without a doubt, that this was vastly more important. He needed to show her what he meant. And she must have realized it, because she moved her hands to try and pull up the shirt he had slept in the evening before as he worked on unbuttoning her own shirt.

She was successful first, and he pulled away from his half-done task to lift his arms up. She pulled it off of him and placed her hands on his bare chest. He got her shirt unbuttoned and only then did she move her hands, pulling off her shirt and tossing it to the side. He settled his hands on her waist for a moment, and then used them to pull her closer to him, kissing her again. He slid his hands up her back and undid the clasp of her bra, and she pulled away from the kiss for a moment to dispose of the bra.

She reached for the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, untying the knot keeping them on his hips. He could tell her hands were shaking slightly and she kept having trouble with it, so he covered her hands in his for a moment. “It’s all right,” he said quietly.

“I’m just…I’m nervous. I shouldn’t be nervous, should I?” she asked, looking at him.

“If it’s absolute rubbish we can try again later,” he said.

She chuckled, and he could feel her shaking ease. “All right. If it’s absolute rubbish we try again later.”

He moved his hands away from hers and settled them on her waist. When she got the knot undone she pushed them down, leaving him in his pants. He stepped out of them slightly and reached around for the button on her denim trousers. He undid it, and then lowered the zipper slightly as she moved her hands back up to his chest. He moved his hands around to her hips and then pushed her trousers down, and when they were low enough she stepped out of them and kicked them to the side.

He pulled her against him, bare flesh against bare flesh, and kissed her. This kiss was not as full of need, and was more what he had intended when he kissed her earlier. He turned her slightly and after a few moments pulled away to lower her onto his bed. When she was settled he made his way over her, bracing himself with one arm and kissing her again. He felt her hands glide along his back, her fingers lightly tracing his spine. He used his free hand to trace shapes on her waist before pulling away from the kiss and beginning to trail his way down her body.

He let his lips caress the skin between her breasts, and then made his way lower. Her hands made their way up his back, her fingertips lightly dancing on his skin. The lower he went the more she increased the pressure. He got down to her knickers and pulled away for a moment, hooking his fingers on the waistband. She lifted her hips up and he pulled them off of her, tossing them to the side somewhere near her trousers. She had lifted a knee up and he moved his lips to the inside of her knee before trailing his way down to her thigh.

She arched slightly as he let his finger take the place of his mouth, touching her soft skin for a moment. He then moved his hand and inserted one finger into her, moving it in and out slowly, then inserting another. She whimpered slightly as he increased the pace, twisting a bit. When she finally came he moved his hands away and while she was still convulsing let his lips and tongue take their place. “Oh my God,” she breathed, her hands grasping the sheets firmly. She hadn’t even finished her first orgasm when the second one started to build. He was able to smile slightly against her, and when she came again only then did he pull away from her.

He quickly stripped and moved over her, covering her. He hadn’t planned on kissing her, not just yet, put she snaked her hand to the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss, tasting herself on his lips. He pulled away from the kiss to position himself, and she moved her legs a bit more apart to accommodate him. Then he entered her slowly, filling her up. She gasped slightly and he leaned in to kiss her again. When he pulled away he looked at her. “Did I hurt you?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head slightly. “No,” she said, reaching up to touch his face. “Please, don’t stop.”

He nodded and pulled out slightly, and her hands moved to his shoulders. He thrust into her again and she gripped his shoulders as he repeated the act, increasing the rhythm. As he increased speed she dug her nails into his shoulder, and he had to admit the small bit of pain excited him. Soon he could feel her tighten around him, and he knew he was going to climax soon. He covered her moan with a kiss as she came, and he felt himself climax moments later. He continued the kiss until the waves of pleasure stopped, and then he pulled away to look at her. “Was that satisfactory?” he asked, a slightly amused smile on his face.

“That was…” she said, a sort of dreamy smile on her face. “That was absolutely not rubbish.”

He grinned at her as a chuckle escaped. “So that means we don’t need to try again?” he asked, running a hand along her side as he pulled out of her completely.

“No. That means we should absolutely try again,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “But I think we definitely need a shower before we leave.”

His good mood was dampened by the reminder. “Yes, I suppose we do. They’re expecting us.”

“Sherlock,” she said quietly, moving her hands to frame his face. “This was unexpected, but perfect. I’m glad we did this.”

“Are you?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes. So don’t dwell on what we’re going to deal with later. Remember this, all right? And just remember that we can come back here today and spend the night together again.”

She let go of his face and he leaned in to kiss her again. “You always know just what to say,” he murmured against her lips when he pulled away.

“Not always,” she replied. “But I do with you.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you do,” she said, smiling at him. “Now come on. We need to get that shower. I can just wear what I wore yesterday for now, especially if we’re going to be cleaning up. Doesn’t make sense to get clean clothes dirty.” She pushed at his slightly and he rolled off of her, and then she stood. She offered him her hand and he took it, letting her pull him up. “And this doesn’t mean we can’t fool around in the shower,” she said as she let go and headed towards his bathroom. He grinned slightly and followed. It was going to be a rough day, but she was right. He at least had this morning to dwell upon, and that would carry him through.


	8. Chapter 8

The others had been busy cleaning for about an hour and a half when Molly and Sherlock arrived. It was still a disaster, but it was better. Mycroft had joined them, as had Dimmock and Stamford, and it looked as though there was still a lot of work to do. Mycroft was actually helping to clean, which surprised his brother to no end.

“So glad you could join us,” Sally said sarcastically when they came in. Molly started to blush and Sally’s glare softened slightly. “Forget it. Never mind me, I’m just…angry. Angrier than usual.”

“With good reason,” Lestrade said, pausing for a moment from the sweeping he was doing. “Whoever did this has put us all out of work for a bit.”

“Your wages will be paid in full, plus a bit of a bonus for the three of you tending bar to make up for lost tips,” Mycroft said from behind the bar as the door opened again.

“Three of us?” Sally asked. “What about Irene?”

“Yes, what about me?” Irene asked as she walked in.

“Come to see what you had a hand in?” John asked, his face hard set.

“What I…?” Irene asked, clearly shocked. “You think _I_ had something to do with this?”

“The Jay that kept calling. That was Jim Moriarty, wasn’t it?” Anthea asked.

“Yes, it was,” Irene said, stepping around the mess. “And it was the same call every time. He wanted me to come back to tend bar at the club I had left. I told him no. When I ignored his calls he’d come visit me at home and I really grew to hate that.”

“We thought…” Anthea said.

“You thought I was working with him? That I wanted to bring this place down from the inside?” Irene asked.

“Frankly? Yes,” John said.

Irene looked at them, then shook her head. “We all may not get along, but I like it here. I like the customers, I like the change of pace. Your property isn’t the only thing Jim wants from this establishment.” She went over to a relatively clean bar stool and sat down on it. “I believe I owe all of you an explanation.”

“That would be nice,” Mycroft said, leaning on the handle of his broom.

“He was a silent partner at the club I used to work at. He would always come in when I was working, and he would tip very well. He got to be one of my favorite patrons, mostly for the good tips. He started telling me about his plans for this part of the city. And while I liked him well enough, his other partners were real pains in the arse. I hated working there, but I stayed because of the money.”

“I imagine you made quite a bit more there than you have made here,” Lestrade said.

“Yes. I made at least double there on a good night. But I hated the job. I hated having to go to work and paste on a smile and flirt and do all of that while my bosses played grab arse with me and every other female on staff. Two years ago I started making a concerted effort to save my money. A few months ago I felt I had enough to leave. But Jim didn’t like that. He soured my reputation with every elite bar and club in the city. The customers wouldn’t care, but the management did. He basically had me blacklisted. Then I saw your ad and decided to try my hand here.”

“We were your last resort,” John said.

Irene nodded. “It was either come here or try again in a different city. Here I’m one of the best. In another city, like New York or Los Angeles, I’d be a nobody. So when you hired me I felt I was lucky. But Jim found out I was here. At first he tried to get me to spy on you, and I refused. I didn’t want to bite the hand that fed me. But as your reputation increased, he found the club I’d been at was losing profits since I left. So a month ago he stopped trying to get me to spy on you and then he tried to get me back.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse. “I got tired of the harassment so I went to the coppers yesterday to get them to make him leave me alone. This is probably retaliation for that. If I can’t work here than I’ll be forced to go back to him.”

“We had it all wrong,” Anthea said. “This was a two part solution: get John to close his doors and force Irene to go back to where she’d been before.”

“And it’s probably going to work,” Irene said with a sigh. “If I stay here he’ll keep targeting you.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Mycroft said. “I am waiting for a few more favors to be called in, but within two weeks at most he will no longer be a problem.”

“You’re not going to off him, are you?” Dimmock asked. “Because if you are and you can guarantee I won’t get charged, I’m willing to help.”

Lestrade rolled his eyes. “Sometimes you let your immaturity show a bit too much.”

“Actually, I’d help,” Sally said with a shrug. “I like this place. It’s my second home.”

Lestrade turned to Sally. “You too?”

“The second home part or the fact I’d help kill Moriarty if it would get him off our backs?” Sally asked.

“Both.” Lestrade shook his head and turned to Mycroft. “It doesn’t matter what you dig up, though. He has money and clout and he can walk out of anything.”

“Not this,” Mycroft said. “He’s been running a criminal enterprise here in London. Prostitution, drugs, human trafficking, money laundering…he has his fingers in a lot of different illegal businesses. The authorities have been alerted and they are working to bring him down.”

“Blimey,” John said. “I didn’t expect that.”

“But we should have,” Sherlock said. “I always thought he was bad news. It’s just worse than we had imagined.”

“Oh, he is _far_ worse than you imagined,” Irene said. “I would hear conversations he had, once he felt he could trust me. I got scared. That’s the other reason I left.”

Sherlock looked at her. “And you feel safer here?”

Irene nodded. “I do. You and I may dislike each other, but I feel more comfortable here than I have in a long time. I like this place, and I like all of you. Even you, Sherlock. This new and improved you is much better than the cynical and jaded old you.”

Sherlock was surprised. “Thank you, I suppose.”

Irene gave him a wan smile before turning back to John. “So there you have it, my dirty little secret. So tell me. What can I do to help?”

“There’s a lot to sweep up,” John said. “I’ve got brooms for all three of you.”

“All right,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“You know, while we’re all here, there is some business I would like to discuss,” Mycroft said as he looked at his brother. “About the future of this pub.”

“Like what?” Molly asked, going to one of the brooms that John had pointed her too.

“I think that there needs to be a change in management,” he said.

“I thought I was doing a good job,” Sherlock said before setting his jaw in a grim line.

“You are, dear brother. But you would do much better as one of the owners as opposed to just a manager. Put some power behind the decisions you make. John and I have been discussing this change for a few weeks now.”

“You want me as an owner?” he asked, shocked. He turned from his brother to John, who was nodding with a large grin on his face. “But I can’t afford to invest in the pub.”

“There’s no need,” John said. “After we get everything repaired and we reopen, you’ll be one of the visible partners. Mycroft will still be the silent partner, so to speak.”

“Less silent from here on out, but any decisions that are made will go through the three of us,” Mycroft said. “You deserve it, Sherlock.”

“Who is going to come on as manager?” Irene asked.

“Well, we had considered that. Anthea is good, but so is Sally. And in all honesty, Sally has seniority, so it should go to her.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Sally said sourly.

John chuckled. “No but. We’ll have a daytime manager and an evening manager. Anthea will cover the days and Sally, you’ll take evenings.”

“We’ll both be managers?” Anthea asked.

“I know you will not return as my assistant, as much as I would like that,” Mycroft said. “But you know what you’re doing. You can manage this place fairly well. And I think with a bit of work you can teach Sally the ropes, between you and Sherlock.”

“It would mean a pay increase for both of you, mostly since you’ll no longer get tips,” John said.

“So I have to stop tending bar?” Sally asked him.

“Only if you want to,” John said. “As long as you maintain your other duties you can continue to tend bar as well. Sherlock never did because he’s absolute rubbish at it, but if the two of you want to pitch in you can. The four of us need to talk about new hires, though. We need to hire at least four more bartenders, two for the days and two for the nights. We were doing well enough, but there’s some improvements we want to include that might help boost business. We’ll need extra people.”

“Irene and Molly, you two would be the lead bartenders on your shift. It might mean some longer shifts, and more frequent ones, but we hope you can train anyone we hire,” Mycroft said. Then he paused. “Well, John and the others hire. I will stay out of that part.”

“So really, as much of a pain in the arse it is at the moment, this whole act of vandalism turned out to be a good thing,” Lestrade said slowly.

“Yes, in its own way,” John said. “So there will be changes, but we hope everyone will stay and we’ll all work better together.”

“I believe I’m okay with the changes,” Irene said, looking at Sherlock. “I could do much worse than here.”

“I’m okay with them too,” Molly said with a smile. “So right now we just need to clean the place up, right?”

“Yes,” John said with a nod. “As soon as we get it cleaned up Mycroft will start calling the people to make repairs, and we’ll make the modifications we wanted at the same time.”

“It helps that I bought the vacated store next door before Moriarty did,” Mycroft said. “I had planned on putting something else in there, but I believe expanding the pub would be best.”

“What’s going to happen to the rest of the businesses, once Moriarty goes to jail?” Sherlock asked.

“I will make offers to those which are run well and make a profit,” Mycroft said. “The rest will have to flounder on their own.” He turned to Anthea. “Perhaps you can offer your recommendations?”

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with this job I will,” she said, giving him a grin. “Just remember, I did just get made a manager.”

“It will be at least two months before renovations are finished. Possibly three. There will be plenty of time for you to help me sift through the wreckage Moriarty will leave behind.” Mycroft bestowed on her one of his rare smiles. “I believe I will better appreciate you this time around.”

“All right then,” Anthea said with a nod. “It’s a deal.”

“In the meantime, I suggest all of you take the time to do some things you would like to do that you hadn’t thought you could do. I sincerely doubt any of you will get a chance at a vacation after we reopen,” Mycroft said. 

“I could definitely travel for a bit,” Lestrade said with a grin.

“Me too,” Sally said. “It might be nice to go to America for a bit.”

“That would be lovely,” Molly said.

“Perhaps we could go somewhere together,” Sherlock said to her.

“I would like that,” Molly said with a wide grin.

“Just remember that as an owner I need you here to help make certain decisions,” John said with a chuckle. “So keep your vacation short, Sherlock.”

“I will,” Sherlock said with a nod. “I suppose we should get back to cleaning up. I don’t think any of us want to spend all day here.”

“Amen to that,” Irene said. “Hand me a broom, would you, Sherlock?”

“Here,” he said, passing one to her. 

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “So! Let’s get to work, shall we?” And with a general murmur of agreement they all went back to work, hopeful that things would be better after this.


	9. Chapter 9

**Three Months Later**

The staff members came in before the bar opened. The new bar looked fantastic and the extra space had given room for other additions which made the place more interesting to be at. They had also expanded the kitchen, which Stamford was grateful for, and the whole place had a revitalized look to it.

In the three months since the old bar was vandalized everyone had come together to make things better. Sherlock had set aside his differences with both Sally and Irene, and while they were not suddenly best friends the relationships were much improved. Almost everyone had taken some time to travel: Sally and Lestrade had gone to New York City together, and surprised everyone by coming back as a couple. Sherlock and Molly had gone somewhere warmer, taking a short cruise to Hawaii before Sherlock returned to help make plans. Dimmock had gone to Florida for a bit and Irene had taken a trip to Los Angeles. But within three weeks all of them had returned and were training for new positions or, in Irene and Stamford’s cases, revamping the menus.

Moriarty had been arrested and the trial was currently going on. Everyone felt safer now that he was locked up, and it was a feeling shared by much of this part of London. Anthea had been closeted with Mycroft much of the last two months determining who he should buy out and who he should leave alone. As it stood, Mycroft had become a partner in three restaurants, a club and two upscale boutiques. Already the establishments were seeing an increase in profits.

The bar was going to have its grand reopening at five that evening, and at three the original staff members who were around before the renovations were enjoying good food and good spirits. Irene was making the drinks, but she and Sally were drinking colas since they would be working that evening. Molly was also drinking cola, though Irene kept trying to get her to drink her new creation.

“Come on, it won’t hurt,” Irene said, looking at Molly. “It’s just rum.”

Molly looked over at Sherlock, who nodded, then turned back to Irene with a smile. “I can’t drink, you see, because I’m pregnant.”

“Get out,” Sally said from her side, her jaw hanging slightly. Everyone else wore shocked looks as well. “Really?”

Molly nodded. “We just found out last week, but we’d kept it quiet. But yes, I’m two months along.”

“Are you two going to get married?” Anthea asked.

“Possibly,” Sherlock said. “It all depends on Molly.”

“I already told you if you’d ask properly I’d say yes,” Molly said, shaking her head. “It’s a bit fast, but we can’t really help that. And I would much prefer to be married when I have this child than to have it out of wedlock.”

“I will ask you soon, then,” Sherlock said.

“You could ask her now,” Irene said.

“I don’t have a ring,” Sherlock pointed out. “Don’t women want rings?”

“Soon my fingers are going to be too fat for one anyway,” Molly said with a chuckle. “You can buy me one later and I’ll wear it on a chain around my neck.”

“Do you want me to get down on one knee and all that?” he asked.

“No, that’s all right,” Molly said. “I don’t need a stereotypical proposal.”

“Very well,” he said, moving over towards her. He took her hands in his. “You know I am not an eloquent man. But I asked you to give me a chance, and you have. I am thankful for that, more than you could know. You make me happy, Molly Hooper, and I wanted to know if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

“Yes,” Molly said with a nod. “I will marry you.” She grinned at him and got off the stool to kiss him. “See?” she said when she pulled away. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

“I think it was lovely,” Sally said with a grin.

“Me too,” Irene said. “This calls for something special. Anthea, could you get me the bottle of bubbly?”

“We have champagne?” John asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I figured we’d use it for a toast,” Irene said with a shrug. “And if you must know, I bought it. It didn’t cost you anything.”

“Ah. Okay, then,” John said with a nod.

Irene chuckled. “We don’t have champagne glasses, but we can put it in something.”

“The martini glasses?” Sally suggested.

“That could work,” Irene said with a nod as Anthea brought over the bottle.

“How much did you spend on that?” Lestrade asked, his eyes wide.

“A pretty penny, but it’s the good stuff,” Irene said, taking the bottle from Anthea. She looked around, then turned. “Just in case the cork goes flying. Don’t want it to break anything before we open.”

“Smart move,” Mycroft murmured.

Irene opened the bottle of champagne with a satisfying pop, then proceeded to pour a glass of champagne to everyone except Molly. Sally and Anthea handed them out, keeping a glass each. “So, what should we toast to?” she asked.

John raised his glass. “To new beginnings,” he said.

Everyone else raised their glasses. “To new beginnings!” they chorused, and everyone tapped their glasses against their friends. And with that, the talking began and this group, a group of people as close as any family, celebrated their good fortunes as well as the fresh start they had all received.


End file.
